


Sunset Shakespeare

by quigon_jyn



Category: Pedro Pascal RPF
Genre: F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shakespeare, a little fluff if you squint, there's plot but only to introduce the smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:22:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29515968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quigon_jyn/pseuds/quigon_jyn
Summary: Pedro reads you Shakespeare, then he fucks you. That's all.
Relationships: Pedro Pascal/Reader
Kudos: 28





	Sunset Shakespeare

He looks so ethereal, sat there in the summer sunset, book in hand. You’d come out to the balcony to admire the sunset on the ocean, but as his velvety voice softly recites the lines of the play you find yourself unable, or unwilling, to focus on anything else. The words of Lady Macbeth aren’t even romantic, but they become all at once the most romantic sounds you’ve ever heard when coming from his lips.

He pauses briefly to take a sip of his wine, and you take the moment to truly admire the curve of his nose and the shadow it casts in the waning light. As he continues his reading you close your eyes, heat pooling between your thighs in response to the words. Is it the words, you wonder, Shakespeare’s words, which are making you weak at the knees, or is it the mere sound of Pedro’s voice lulling you into a trance? You suppose it has to be a bit of both, the way Pedro seems to fit so well with the cadence and rhythm of the work.

You get so lost in your train of thought you fail to notice Pedro’s voice trailing away until it’s entirely gone. You open your eyes slowly and see him sat with a small, knowing smirk on his face and the book still open in his hand. You’ve been caught.

“We’re supposed to be out here to watch the sunset.”

You sigh and roll your eyes, “I can hardly focus on a damned sunset when you’re reciting Shakespeare at me.”

He chuckles, almost to himself. “Well then,” he stands abruptly, taking your hand and dragging you up with him, “what’s the point of staying out here?”

And he walks, pulling you behind him, off the balcony and into the bedroom, He closes the door behind the pair of you and pulls you close to him, walking you until your back hits the cool glass pane. He throws the book haphazardly back onto the bed and leans down, taking your lips in a searing kiss as his hands move to hold your waist. Your arms reach round his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as you taste the wine mingling with his own perfect flavour.

His hands wander upwards now, under the hem of your shirt, and he pulls it up as he goes, stopping briefly at your breasts before continuing their ascent. He breaks the kiss for only a moment to pull it all the way off before he’s back on you with even more passion, taking off your bra and touching whatever bare skin he can reach.

You let yourself roam now too, slowly undoing each button on his shirt, pushing your hands into it and curling your arms to his back, running your fingers along his spine. He shrugs the shirt off his shoulders before pulling you backwards into the room, turning you and pushing you onto the bed.

He stops now, admires your half-naked body spread out for him on the white linen, before kneeling down and slowly dragging your pants down your legs, kissing your skin as it is exposed to him. The pants are discarded in an unknown corner of the room and your underwear soon follows, leaving you completely bare right in front of his face. You hear him moan softly at the sight of you, soaked and glistening, before he dives in, licking a wide stripe up your pussy.

You whine as he latches onto your clit, devouring it with passion and care. He knows how to make you feel good, how to pull from you the sweet sounds that he craves, and he takes pleasure in making you writhe and scream his name. He feasts on your cunt, pushing you closer each second to that precious edge. You feel a finger push into you, throwing you closer still, and your moans get louder, your hands reaching down to tangle in his curls and hold him in place until you fall off the edge.

And you do, quickly and suddenly, caught in euphoria with his head between your thighs and his fingers inside you, clenching and screaming his name. He groans deeply, working you through your high until you can’t take any more stimulation. He pulls away, wiping his face with his forearm, flashes you a grin, and crawls up the bed until he’s on top of you. He leans down, kissing you gently, and you reach down to his belt, pulling it off and finally getting his pants and boxers off, leaving him as bare as you, and clearly just as aroused.

You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders, leaning up to kiss his nose as he lines himself up and pushes into you. The stretch is immaculate as he fills you inch by excruciating inch, moving infuriatingly slowly to prolong the experience. He swears softly as he reaches the hilt, resting his forehead on yours and planting a tender kiss to your lips before pulling out and slamming back in, forcing a load moan from your lips.

“Poetry,” he whispers. “Fucking poetry,” as he fucks into you with a brutal pace, one hand holding himself up, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. You can’t stop the sounds that fall from you now, not that he’d ever want you to, and you feel yourself inching toward a second peak.

Pedro’s breathing becomes heavier and more laboured as he nears his own orgasm, and the hand on your hip moves down to your clit, playing your body like a fiddle, sending you barrelling into yours. As you reach your second peak, he pushes into you hard, spilling inside you and painting your walls with his seed.

He holds himself there for a while, savouring the feeling of your fluttering walls, before he pulls out and rolls off you, pulling you into his chest. You sigh and wrap your arm around him, leaning into him as much as you can and closing your eyes, feeling yourself start to drift off when you hear a final mumbled statement from Pedro.

“I think I should read Shakespeare more often.”


End file.
